


Hitched

by Eldalire



Series: Dreaming Dreams [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Cute, M/M, Swearing, Wedding, married, mostly fluffy business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldalire/pseuds/Eldalire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A history of Jehan and Feuilly's friendship, courtship, and their wedding day.  But will Jehan get cold feet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras knocked lightly on Jehan’s door before pushing it open and letting himself in. He was sure Jehan was busy being flustered and hadn’t heard the door.

        “Jehan?” he called lightly from the bottom of the staircase.  “Jehan Prouvaire!” he called again.

        “One second I’m coming!” he cooed. Enjolras heard his light footsteps scurrying across the upper floor.  Jehan appeared at the bannister, standing on his toes, his hair all in a frizzy reddish mess.  He was wearing nothing but one of Feuilly’s button down shirts, which was far too big for him and came down nearly to his knees.  Enjolras smiled up at him.

        “Ready?”

        “No I’m not ready! I can’t go like this! I have to comb my hair and decide which tie to wear and make flower crowns and—”

        “We’re just going to have your hair done, Jehan!  Remember? You asked me to drive you yesterday.” Enjolras said.

        “Oh!  Oh right!  I’m sorry, I’m so nervous.” He said, scurrying back into his bedroom and pulling on a pair of proper shorts and rolling up the sleeves on Feuilly’s shirt. “Yes alright!” he said, trotting down the stairs at lightening speed.  “I’m ready now!”

        “Shoes?” Enjolras inquired.

        “Oh right!” Jehan said, hurrying to the kitchen where he had kicked off his favorite pair of Birkenstocks, slipping them on and returning to where Enjolras waited at the bottom of the steps. He held the door for Jehan and then opened the car door for him.

        “Wow, Enjolras, you’re like my own personal chauffer!”

        “Well, you’re getting married this afternoon!  You deserve the best! Sorry I forgot the white gloves at home.” He joked, starting up the little red Fiat 500 with a soft rumble.

 

—o0o—

 

“Feuilly wake the fuck up!” Grantaire shouted at Feuilly’s face as he lay on the futon in Grantaire and Enjolras’ apartment.  He groaned and pulled the comforted up over his head, prompting Grantaire to grab his shoulders and shake him violently.

        “Mother fuck, you meathead!” he shouted, pushing Grantaire off of himself and sitting up.

        “There ya go! Here, have a coffee.” Grantaire thrust the mug into his hand.  Feuilly took a sip and made a face.

        “What the fuck is this?” he asked, looking into the cup.

        “What do you mean? It’s coffee.”

        “No, this is heavy cream and sugar with some coffee sort of stirred in.” Feuilly replied, placing the mug on the coffee table and leaning against the backrest of the sofa, rubbing his eyes with his hands.  Grantaire laughed.

        “Sorry!  I’m so used to making it for Enjolras.” He handed Feuilly his own cup of black.  “Have that.” Feuilly grunted in reply, downing most of the coffee in one go.

        “what time is it?” he asked.

        “Seven” Grantaire replied.

        “Why am I awake at seven AM on a Saturday?”

        “Because you have to get ready. Enjolras just left to get Jehan.”

        “Shit is that today?”

        “Well yeah. That’s why you’re here and not at Jehan’s place. Can’t see your bride before the wedding!” Grantaire recited.

        “Right…”

        “Come on. Jehan will be pissed if you show up looking like a bum.”

        “It’s sort of hard for me to not look like a bum.”

        “That’s why we’re going to the barbers for a shave and a hair cut-style-thing or whatever, and then we have to get you all dressed and shit so you look okay.  But get a shower first.  Down the hall to the left.”

        “Why do I need a shower I’m fine.”

        “You smell like a bigfoot.”

        “You’ve never smelled a bigfoot, you asshole.”

        “Get in the shower, you dickhead.” Grantaire said.  “I’ll make breakfast.”

 

—o0o—

 

Jehan was fifteen when he met Feuilly for the first time.  Enjolras brought him out to the little corner café near his parents’ house to brighten his spirits after one of his favorite plants died. Enjolras brought Jehan out on lots of little ‘dates’.  Seeing as Jehan looked like a girl already, nobody ever commented on them, and nobody knew that Enjolras was questioning his sexuality.  It worked out well for both of them.

        After making it halfway through his strawberry smoothie, Jehan excused himself to the bathroom. He crept in quietly, hoping nobody would see him.  He didn’t really care what anyone thought of _him_ , but he knew Enjolras was sensitive on the subject, and didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, should anyone see him walk out of the men’s room and reassume his seat next to Enjolras.

        He was washing his hands when another boy, just slightly older than he, about seventeen, walked into the bathroom.  He looked him up and down before bowing his blonde eyebrows, seemingly puzzled. Jehan smiled and offered him a wave.

        “You do know this is the men’s room, right?” he asked, seeming more nervous than anything. Jehan nodded, feeling his cheeks redden. He was so terribly shy, and hardly ever spoke to strangers.

        “You also realize you’re not a guy, right?” the boy continued, leaning against the door. Jehan wasn’t sure what to do. His only escape had been blocked—unintentionally, of course—and he was in the company of a complete stranger.

        “I—I’m a guy…” he said quietly, his pretty blue eyes cast down to his pale yellow Chuck Taylors.  He didn’t know what else to do.

        “Are you like, a cross dresser or something?” he asked, still completely genuine, more curious than nasty.

        “No, I just—well…I don’t know I just like wearing this stuff, I guess.” He explained as best he could, his hands shaking.  He had never spoken with a stranger for so long without anyone else present to back him up.

        “Oh.” The guy said with a shrug. “That’s cool.” He grinned, one of his teeth missing.  “I’m Feuilly, by the way.” He added, offering Jehan his large, calloused hand. He took it gingerly, his own thin, pale fingers looking small and stick-like against Feuilly’s large palm.

        “Jehan.” He replied with a kind smile.  “Are you here with anyone?” he asked.

        “Nah I just came in here to like…clean up, I guess…The owner of the place gives me free lunch and stuff…I sort of don’t have money, you know?” he admitted.

        “Why don’t you come and sit with my friend and I?” Jehan offered.  “Milkshake on me.”  He smiled again. Feuilly nodded.

        “Yeah.  Yeah that sounds cool.  Thanks.” He said.

 

Jehan left the café with Feuilly’s phone number scribbled on a napkin.

 

 

 

 

~Yay!  Each chapter will continue on with their day in the present, and will tell a quick little bit about an important point in their past together.  ALL THE CUTE!  Comments make me happy!  Suggestions also make me happy!  


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras held the door to the salon open for Jehan, who walked in quietly, looking around with a shy smile on his china face.  He had never been to a barber shop before, much less a salon as nice as this one. Never in his life had his hair been cut, and it had only just returned to it’s original, long length after his chemo treatment just under a year ago.

        “Oh hey, Enjolras!” Eponine’s sister, Azelma said with a grin.  “Is this Jehan?  Oh what a cutie you are!” she cooed.  Jehan smiled. “I’m not so mad about coming in early anymore.  You’re monster sweet.” She chuckled.  “Come on, you can have Enjolras’ normal chair.”

        “You come here, Enjolras?” Jehan asked quietly.  Enjolras nodded.

        “Weekly shampoo. How do you think I keep this up?” he said, running his hair through his perfect, golden curls.

        “Are you going to put that silk ribbon in your hair?  The one I gave you?”

        “Yup.  And the flowers.” Enjolras smiled as Azelma draped a cape over Jehan.

        “Don’t cut it, alright?” he said quietly, looking up at Azelma with a meek smile.

        “Promise I won’t. This is just so I don’t get you all wet when I wash it and stuff.” She smiled, guiding Jehan’s head back.

        “I’ve never done this before.” He admitted with a smile.  Enjolras sat in the empty barber’s chair just to the side, watching with his chin propped up in his hand.

        “Serious? Enjolras can’t go a week without coming in here.”

        “I look like an angry dandelion if I miss a week.” He said.  Jehan giggled.

        “I’m sure you’re a lovely dandelion, Enjolras.” He grinned.

        “Any ideas what you want me to do with your hair?  Do you want like, waves or the classic bridal gross curly bun.” She asked.  Enjolras laughed.

        “I—I think I’d like to leave it mostly down…maybe little braid-y bits…I’m putting flowers in it later…”

        “I can make that happen.” She smiled, pulling out a hair dryer and going to work on Jehan’s thick, reddish locks. Then she removed the cape and started putting little braids here and there in Jehan’s hair.  After some hair spray and a few bobby pins for the fly-away hairs, she turned Jehan towards the mirror, and he covered his mouth with his dainty hands, his eyes tearing up.

        “Oh shit don’t cry! I’ll do it again, don’t worry!”

        “No!  No it’s perfect I love it!” Jehan said, wiping his eyes, standing up and giving Azelma a hug, which she returned after catching her bearings. Enjolras laughed and snapped a picture.

        “Enjolras send a picture to my mom, alright?” Jehan cooed.

        “You got it.” He replied, tapping a message to Mrs. Prouvaire, which she returned less than ten seconds later. Enjolras read it off:

 

Oh Baby you look beautiful!  I’m waiting at the house to help you get dressed!  Love you! xxo <3

 

        “Aw!  Your mommy is so cute!  My parents are sort of dead beats.” Azelma said, laughing.

        “Your dad told me I looked like a transvestite and he never wanted to see me again once.” Enjolras said with a sarcastic sort of laugh.

        “What an asshole.” She replied.

        “It was sort of funny, actually. The second he found out I was in law school, he started kissing my ass big time, telling me he might need to hire me some time soon.” Azelma rolled her eyes.

        “Probably got booked for harassment or something.  Jackass.”

        “Don’t they own the inn down the street from the Musain?” Jehan asked.

        “Yup.  They don’t really run it, though, they just sit at the counter and charge people for stupid shit.  ‘Need another pillow?  Extra Euro, suckers!’  They’re terrible.” She said, wiping down the counter.

        “You can share my mommy and daddy any time you’d like, Azelma.  They’d be more than happy to adopt you.” Jehan smiled.

        “Aw thanks, sweetie! I like this kid, Enjolras, he’s a cutie. Keep him around.” She smiled. “Have fun today, okay?   Everything’s going to be perfect!” she smiled.

        “You should come! Come with Eponine, alright?” Jehan cooed.

        “Aw I don’t have anything to wear…Plus I have to work!  Thanks though, cutie!” Enjolras handed her his debit card.

        “Nah, don’t worry about it. It was fun.” She grinned.

        “Thanks, ‘Zelma.” Enjolras said, flashing his immaculate smile.

 

—o0o—

 

“Why are we doing this again?” Feuilly asked as he climbed off the back of Grantaire’s Vespa. 

        “Because you need a shave.”

        “I can shave in the sink with a fucking Bic.”

        “You’re gettig married you need all the fancy shit!” Grantaire replied, locking up his helmet and the Vespa, not that anyone would want to steal it.  Feuilly was constantly reminding him what a piece of crap it was.

        Feuilly grunted and allowed Grantaire to drag him into the barber shop.

 

—o0o—

 

After contemplating for a long while and talking with his mother, Jehan decided it might be a good idea to call Feuilly.  He dialed the number and waited patiently for someone to pick up, nervous. What if he forgot who he was? What if he didn’t pick up? What if he dialed wrong? How embarrassing! He took a deep, long breath just before someone picked up the phone.

        “Feuilly?” he asked hopefully.

        “Yeah?” his voice replied, sounding relatively sleepy.

        “I—It’s Jehan…from the Musain…You…I mean, I gave—well…We…I bought you a milkshake.” He slapped himself on the forehead for sounding so stupid.  Surely Feuilly thought he was a total idiot!  Who would want to spend time with some freak who couldn’t even make a coherent sentence?  There goes another potential friend!  Jehan never had luck making real friends.  Everyone liked him fine, nobody was particularly nasty to him, but it took him such a long time to work up the courage to even speak to someone, nobody waited around long enough.  Enjolras was really his only good friend, and that was only because they had grown up together. Now this guy who hardly knew him who he thought was sort of really cute might not even want to talk with him because he—”

        “You there?” Feuilly asked. Jehan shook himself out of his panicked daydreaming.

        “Yes!  Yes sorry!  Could you say that again?”

        “You want to like…do something? I’d take you out, but work’s been slow and I—”

        “Yes!  I would love to do something!  What should we do?”

        “Whatever you feel like, I guess…”

        “You can have him over for dinner if you’d like, Baby!” Jehan’s mother suggested. She was still a little nervous about her little Jehan spending time with a seventeen year old. He was only fifteen, still a baby to Mrs. Prouvaire, and she wanted to meet this Feuilly her Jehan was so taken with.  Even so, she didn’t want to ruin Jehan’s good spirits or embarrass him, so she did her best to keep her distance, and trusted Jehan to make the deciscion for himself. She only worried that someone would take advantage of her naïve little poet.

        “Would you like to come to dinner here?” Jehan asked.

        “Oh I don’t…I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

        “Oh it’s okay! Please come it’ll be fun! You can bring your parents if you want to!  Or…Is that lame? I mean, you don’t want to come if you don’t want to…We could do something else.  I can pay if you want, I—”

        “Nah it’s okay. Dinner’s cool. Where do you live?” Jehan smiled and gave him the address.

        “See you at five, then, alright?” he said.

        “Sounds good. Thanks a lot, Jehan, you’re really helping me out.” Jehan smiled.

        “Bye!” he cooed before hanging up.

        “Is he coming over?” Mrs. Prouvaire asked.

        “Yes…but that isn’t very…like…normal, is it?  Mommy I’m not cool at all…”

        “Oh Baby it’s okay! It’ll be nice! I’m excited to meet his family!” Jehan smiled.  “And to tell you the truth, I was a little nervous about you going with someone I don’t know. You’re only fifteen. I don’t want to lose you.” she hugged him tightly.  “Now what should we do for dinner?”

        “Something really fancy!”

 

—o0o—

 

Feuilly was sure he had the wrong address when he finally found Jehan’s street. The house was huge. There was no way that sweet, kid, quiet kid lived in this monster townhouse.  The home just screamed ‘rich pompous jackass’, and Jehan was anything but. He was small and subdued and really, really cute—Feuilly shook the idea out of his mind. 

        _Just a friend.  That’s all. And he’s a guy. You’re not into that, Feuilly…You never were before…_  

        He mustered the courage and rang the doorbell.  Jehan opened it not a moment later, a big, shy smile on his face.

        “Oh I’m so happy you came, Lovely!” he cooed, launching himself at Feuilly, who was nearly a head taller, and giving him a massive hug, which he returned gladly with a grin.

        “Hey Jehan.” He replied. “I can’t believe this is your house.” Jehan held the door for him and he walked inside on his toes, as if afraid of breaking the floor.  He looked around, awe struck.  The foyer alone was larger than his entire apartment.

        “Yup!  My cozy home!”

        “Your parents must be loaded—I mean, shit that was sort of rude…” Jehan giggled.

        “My great, great grandfather owned quite a few steel companies in the United States during the industrial revolution; That’s where most of the money is from.  My father went to law school and runs a law firm now, and my mother is a doctor, but they usually travel about and help the poor in third world countries, since they don’t really have to work…” he explained timidly, hoping that was a sufficient explanation.  Feuilly only nodded.

        “Have you brought your parents?” Jehan asked as he showed Feuilly to the dining room, where the table was set for six. Feuilly’s face flushed white.

        “No they’re—I mean…I don’t live with them.” He explained.  Not entirely a lie…

        “Oh.” Jehan replied, feeling a bit embarrassed for bringing it up. 

        “Ah you must be Feuilly, then!” Mrs. Prouvaire said, entering the dining room with a tray of covered dishes and pans.  Feuilly nodded. “Pleasure to meet you! Our Jehan has told us how lovely you are.  Are your mother and father here as well?” she asked, looking around.

        “His parents don’t live nearby…He lives by himself.” Jehan explained to his mother, helping her with the dishes.

        “I hope you’re hungry, then! I cooked for six!” she smiled warmly as Mr. Prouvaire crept into the room.  Though Jehan looked very much like his mother, he had clearly adopted his mannerisms from his father, who said nothing as he entered. He only smiled and waved to Feuilly, the same way Jehan had greeted him for the first time.

        “Hi, uh…Mr…” Feuilly began, his cheeks flushing pink.  He hadn’t thought that sentence through…

        “Prouvaire.   Elliot’s better, though.” He smiled.

        “I’m Arielle!” Jehan’s mother cooed.

        “And I’m Jehan!” Jehan added sarcastically.  Feuilly laughed, taking the seat across the table from Jehan, too nervous to sit next to him. He didn’t want to seem too forward. He also wanted an easy view of Jehan. He was so fair and girlish, with his sprinkling of freckles and charming nose; he couldn’t help but stare.

        “What’s dinner?” Elliot asked quietly.

        “Boeuf bourguignon.” She replied with a smile.  “And onion soup.” She added.

        “Mommy that’s not fancy!” Jehan said with a chuckle.

        “Well that’s dinner.” She replied. Jehan looked to Feuilly meekly.

        “I wanted dinner to be really nice for you, but I suppose we’re just having beef stew.”

        “No!  No this is great!” Feuilly said with a smile. This would be his first hot meal in nearly a week.  He had so little money, and lived on about €15 a day, most of which went towards his apartment. What was left over was for food, which he purchased every Saturday; large, cheep sorts of things he could have for a while.  He was a big fan of canned food, considering it was inexpensive, came in it’s own serving container, and lasted a while without being in the fridge of freezer, since his didn’t work.   Just having something cooked by a person and not eaten from a can was a real treat.  He smiled as Mrs. Prouvaire served him.  “Thank you so much.” He said, really and truly grateful.

 

About half way through dinner, Jehan’s parents began speaking with Feuilly about this and that: where he lived, if he had pets, school—to which Feuilly replied he was homeschooled, though he had already mentioned his parents didn’t live with him—and the like.  Jehan listened intently, kicking his feet absently under the table with a smile until his bare foot brushed against Feuilly’s ankle.  Jehan’s smile vanished, and he kept his eyes trained on Feuilly for a reaction, but there was none.  Perhaps he hadn’t noticed…Jehan sighed quietly and relaxed, keeping his legs terribly still so he didn’t kick him again.  After a moment, though, Jehan felt a sock against his own ankle, which startled him. He jumped just slightly, as he was apt to do, before smiling.

        “What’s wrong, Baby?” his mother asked in between conversing with Feuilly.

        “Nothing!” Jehan replied with a grin.  The conversation continued. Jehan tapped the top of Feuilly’s foot with his toes. Feuilly flashed him a smile and tapped back. They played like this for a while, all while Feuilly spoke with Jehan’s mother and father, never allowing their secret game of footsie to be noticed.  It really was a skill.  He remained perfectly poised in his chair while his feet were hard at work nudging Jehan’s ankles and tapping his toes.

        “Do you work, Feuilly? Jehan is turning sixteen soon and he needs to get a job.” Arielle said, looking to Jehan and grinning. Jehan returned the smile, but not for the same reason.  He was giggling at Feuilly’s incessant tapping and tickling at his feet.

        “I do odd jobs for neighbors.” Feuilly replied, keeping a completely straight face, though Jehan was struggling to keep from laughing.  “My apartment is above a Laundromat, so I fix the machines sometimes…I make fans, too. I sell them downtown in stores and stuff.  I don’t make that much, but I’m alive.” He smiled.

        “That’s good.” Elliot said somewhat jokingly.  Feuilly laughed.

        “Ready for desert?” Arielle asked, standing up out of her chair and clearing everyone’s dishes. Jehan smiled.

        “Always.” Feuilly replied.

        “I like you, Feuilly. You’re funny.” Elliot said with a grin.

        “I made mille-feuille pastries! I thought it was fitting since it’s spelled like ‘Feuilly’!” she said with a giggle, finding herself very clever. Feuilly smiled. Jehan buried his face in his hands.

        “Oh Mother, why do you do this to me?” he asked into his hands.  Feuilly gave his ankle another nudge.

 

 

 

 

~Yay all the things!!!  How is everyone liking this so far?  Lame?  I think it's sort of lame, but that's okay. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Arielle was waiting at the door when Enjolras and Jehan returned from the hair dresser, and she immediately hugged Jehan.

        “Oh baby you look so lovely!” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.  “I’m so excited!”  Jehan smiled meekly.

        “See you later, Jehan!” Enjolras said, making to leave.

        “Oh please stay, Enjolras!” Jehan cooed, taking his hand.

        “Are you sure? Is that alright, Mrs. Prouvaire?”

        “Yes of course! Come keep us company! Everything’s laid out upstairs.” She smiled.

 

Jehan’s bedroom looked exactly how one would expect: bright, happy, and covered in flowers. The walls were painted a pale peachy shade with white wainscoting.  He had a shelf above his bed, filled with little trinkets his parents had collected from around the world on their travels.  There were garlands of flowers and little paper lanterns crisscrossing the ceiling.  A happy chain of good-luck birds hung from the corner, and the wall above his desk was completely covered in drawings and cards and paintings that friends had given him over the years. Enjolras even spotted a birthday card he had drawn for Jehan in fifth grade tacked up beside the desk. A massive watercolor painting Grantaire made for his birthday was framed above his bed in the corner. The bed was low to the ground and massive, covered in fluffy comforters and snuggly blankets. The stuffed raccoon Feuilly had given him when he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s last year was sitting on his pillow.

        It was more of a nest than a bed, and Enjolras remembered sleep overs as a kid, when he and Jehan would snuggle up together and watch movies.  Though he never admitted it, Enjolras loved those sleep overs, when he and Jehan would share the big bed and watch Disney movies together. Jehan was Enjolras’ first crush, and vice versa.  Grantaire and Feuilly had to understand that Jehan and Enjolras would always go on ‘dates’. They also needed to understand that it was okay for Enjolras and Jehan to make out occasionally. They had always done it, and they weren’t going to stop. 

 

Arielle took the hanger down from where it hung on the doorknob and handed it to Jehan. He smiled, taking the billowy poet sleeved top and pulling it over his head carefully, avoiding his braided hair. The shirt was white and thin, and hung nicely on Jehan’s narrow shoulders.  The back was mostly open, webbed in an embroidered pattern of flowers and leaves. The sleeves came to just below his elbows, and were trimmed in more embroidered lace.  He also wore long, flow-y pants that covered most of his feet. Enjolras thought he looked like an angel, with his billowing sleeves and joyous smile.  His mother placed a halo of baby’s breath and pale pink roses on his reddish hair and hugged him, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

        “You look beautiful, baby.” She said quietly.  Enjolras smiled, watching from where he sat on the edge of the bed.  Jehan looked back at Enjolras.

        “Think it’s okay?” he asked. Enjolras nodded.

        “It’s perfect. You’re gorgeous, Jehan.” He replied, standing and giving him a gentle hug.  “I love you so much.  I’m so excited for you!” he said.

        “You have to go get ready now! You’re the Best Man! There’s only a few hours left!” Mrs. Prouvaire said.  “Did Jehan give you what you’re supposed to wear?”

        “Yup he did! I’ll see you guys later. Bye, Jehan!  Call if you need anything!”

        “Thank you, Lovely!” he called after him as he bounded down the stairs.

 

—o0o—

 

“How are you not ready yet?!” Enjolras asked as he burst through his apartment door, finding Feuilly and Grantaire on the sofa eating Pirates Booty and watching a movie.

        “I’m shaved so smooth my cheeks feel like a baby’s ass, and I got a hair cut.  I’m ready.” Feuilly grunted.  Grantaire laughed.

        “I thought you were helping him, Grantaire!” he said, running his hand through Grantaire’s hair, tugging at it lightly to convey his frustration. 

        “I did help him. He no longer smells like wildebeest. It doesn’t take long to get dressed, Enjolras.” He said.

        “Get up and get dressed! We only have a few hours!”

        “Alright, alright, mom.” Grantaire said, flipping off the TV, then walking around the sofa and hugging Enjolras tightly, rocking him back and forth.  Enjolras gave a sort of mumble into Grantaire’s tee shirt and Feuilly sighed.

        “Wish I could see Jehan.” He said flatly.

        “Soon!  He looks beautiful, Feuilly.” Enjolras said with a smile, heading to the bedroom to get changed.

        “Toss my clothes out, would ya? You’ll be in there for an hour.” Grantaire called.  Enjolras threw his wedding ensemble out the door and into his face.  “Thanks, I think.” Grantaire called back.

        “You’re welcome, Lovey.” Enjolras shouted sarcastically. Grantaire shrugged and pulled on the white button down and kaki pants with little thought.  He let the pale pink tie hand around his neck. Everyone was wearing the same button down and kakis, but all of them had a tie in a different pattern. They were all pink, but some were striped, some had floral patterns, Combeferre’s was covered in little pink moths. Joly, Bossuet, and Courfeyrac got bowties.

        Feuilly wore a plain button down with billowy sleeves that came down to his wrists, and a pair of white slacks with a pink silk scarf tied in a bow around one of the belt loops—It was one of the scarves Feuilly gave to Jehan during his chemo treatment, and it was his favorite one.  He wore it as a headband or around his neck long after his hair had grown back, and he wanted it in the wedding somehow.  It added a little color to Feuilly’s all white ensemble.  Grantaire took the crown of flowers Jehan had made the day before and placed it carefully on Feuilly’s head with a smile.

        “Jehan’s gonna be so happy.” Grantaire said, straightening Feuilly’s collar.

        “I hope so.” Fueilly said meekly. “I still don’t know why he picked me, but I’m glad he did.” He grinned, his gold tooth showing in his awkward, crooked smile. Grantaire smiled in reply.

 

—o0o—

 

Jehan had his first kiss when he was seventeen.

 

It started how most other Saturdays did, with Feuilly stopping by the Prouvaire’s house and picking up Jehan.  They spent almost every weekend together, exploring the city or sitting by the river. Feuilly saved up all week to treat Jehan to ice cream.  Jehan looked forward to his Saturday with Feuilly all week, and was always so excited Friday night.

        It was springtime on that particular Saturday, and Jehan was waiting on his front stoop when Feuilly came by.

        “Ready to go?” he asked, sitting down next to him.  He had walked all the way from his apartment—a fair distance away, and wanted a quick sit-down before they went on their way.  Jehan shrugged and leaned against Feuilly’s strong, muscular shoulder.

        “We could stay here for a little bit.” He said with a smile, closing his eyes.  Feuilly watched him sitting quietly, beautiful and serene. Feuilly thought he was a little angel who took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in his lap. He draped his arm over Jehan’s shoulders carefully, cautiously.  He had never initiated anything before.  It was always Jehan giving him hugs, Jehan holding his hand, Jehan brushing the shaggy hair out of his eyes.  He wanted Jehan to know that he cared about him, but he was afraid to try anything. He didn’t want to scare him away.

        When his hand finally reached Jehan’s shoulder, Jehan looked up.  Feuilly withdrew his hand.

        “Sorry.” He said, looking away.

        “No don’t be sorry.” Jehan replied, taking Feuilly’s hand and holding it.  “I just…I guess I just liked it, your hand on my shoulder.” He smiled meekly.

        “Yeah?” Feuilly asked, nervous.

        “Mm hm.”  Jehan said, leaning against Feuilly’s side again, holding his hand, his arm draped across his shoulders.

       

“I really like you, Feuilly.” Jehan said after a few minutes of silence. Jehan’s cheeks flushed pink. Feuilly wasn’t sure what to say.

        “I—I like you too, Jehan.” He said finally.

        “Do you really? It’s okay if you don’t. We can just be friends.” He replied with a smile.

        “No.  No I really, really like you…a lot.”

        “I really like you a lot too.” Jehan grinned.

        “Want to go get ice cream to celebrate our mutual ‘really-like-ing’?” Feuilly asked.  Jehan nodded as Feuilly stood up, taking his hand. Together they walked down to the ice cream parlor.

 

Jehan sucked on his spoon of lemon sorbet, his favorite.  Feuilly was working on his own cup of peanut butter cup ice cream when Jehan tapped his shoulder lightly.  Feuilly turned towards Jehan.

        “You know how I said I really liked you before?” Jehan asked.  Feuilly nodded.  “Well…I don’t really think I really like you.” Jehan said.  Feuilly’s heart sank.  Though they were never really officially ‘going out’, Feuilly really did love Jehan, and he didn’t want him as a friend.  He wanted him as a boyfriend. 

        “Do you just regular like me?” Feuilly asked.  Jehan shook his head. “Well…what sort of like me are we talking about then?”

        “We’re not talking about liking. We’re talking about loving.” Jehan smiled meekly, taking another little nibble of his lemon ice. Feuilly grinned.                                                                    

        “Really?” he asked. Jehan nodded.

        “Yes.  I don’t really like you.  I really love you.  I really, really do.”

        “I really, really love you too, Jehan.” He replied, leaning over and pressing his forehead to Jehan’s. Jehan giggled, then closed his eyes and nudged his nose against Feuilly’s.  Feuilly played with one of the flowers in Jehan’s braid.

 

Neither of them were really expecting anything more.  They were both content just to be with each other, to be close and to know they were cared for.  But something made Jehan tilt his head up just slightly, and that same something wanted Feuilly to meet him in the middle.  Soon, their lips brushed in a light little kiss.  Feuilly pulled away, frightened he had done something wrong.  Jehan stayed completely still, his eyes closed, a smile playing across his lovely, porcelain face.

        “I’ve never done that before.” Jehan admitted, looking up at Feuilly.  He returned the loving gaze, but said nothing.  He couldn’t think of anything to say.  The warm tingle from Jehan’s little kiss was still radiating through him.  No other kiss had ever made him feel that way before. 

        “I think I’m in love with you, Jehan Prouvaire.” Feuilly said, taking Jehan’s hand.

        “I think I might be in love with you, too.” He replied, leaning into Feuilly, shaking with excitement and overflowing with a raw, wonderful emotion he couldn’t explain. He took Feuilly’s hand in his own and held it tight.


	4. Chapter 4

Grantaire almost fainted when Enjolras emerged from their bedroom. As he was Jehan’s best man, Jehan had arranged for him to wear something similar to the other groomsmen—the rest of the amis—but with a few delicate and subtle differences.

        Instead of a plain white collar and cuffs, Enjolras’ were pale pink and patterned with delicate flowers. Jehan’s mother had it made just for him. His boutonniere was different as well.  The others were wearing small pale pink roses and some simple foliage, but Enjolras’ was far larger and contained not only a rose, but a small bud and babies breath as well, to match Jehan and Feuilly’s flower crowns. It had taken him close to 45 minutes, but Enjolras’ hair was perfectly pulled back into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, his curls shiny and springy.  He held a pale pink ribbon out to Grantaire.

        “Could you tie this for me?” he asked, turning around.  “Jehan wants it in my hair.  This too.” He handed Grantaire a flower with a smile. Grantaire tied the silk ribbon in a perfect bow and secured the rose with a bobby pin Enjolras conveniently provided. “Does it look okay?” he asked, turning around and facing Grantaire.

        “You always look beautiful, Apollo.” He said, leaning down ever so slightly and kissing Enjolras on the nose. He smiled.

        “You clean up nicely, Feuilly.” Enjolras said, peeking around Grantaire to Feuilly, who sat lazily on the sofa in his all-white ensemble. He looked like a reluctant Angel, sitting quietly.  He grunted in reply.

        “Why aren’t you excited, Feuilly?!” Enjolras asked.  “You’re getting married!  Be happy!”

        “I am excited!” he said, sitting up properly.  “I just don’t dance around about it like you.” Enjolras chuckled.

        “Dancing sounds nice, doesn’t it, Apollo?” Grantaire said.

        “Dancing always sounds nice, Grantaire.” Enjolras replied, taking his hand and shoulder.  Grantaire placed his hand on Enjolras’ girlish hip and they spun around the room laughing as Feuilly rolled his eyes.

        “You guys are so gay.” He said with a chuckle.

        “Yes. Yes we are.” Enjolras agreed.

        “Isn’t that a little hypocritical, Feuilly?  You’re the one marrying a fairy princess.” Feuilly laughed.

        “Don’t pretend you don’t think he’s cute, Grantaire.”

        “I think he’s cute.” Enjolras said with a grin in Grantaire’s direction.

        “Sorry, Sunshine, I don’t think I can pull off Jehan’s wardrobe.” He replied.

        “That’s okay.  I think you’re wonderful just how you are, Lovey.” He said reassuringly.

        “What time do we have to be at the service?” Grantaire asked.

        “one.”

        “What time is it now?”

        “12:04”

        “we should go.”

        “Yup.”

        “Ready Feuilly?” Enjolras asked with a grin.”

        “Yup.” He said with a smile wider than Enjolras and Grantaire had ever seen on his face. 

 

—o0o—

 

Jehan stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, placing flowers into his hair the way he did every morning; but things would be different now.  He would never have another morning where he sat in his bedroom and just put flowers into his braid.  He would never have another cozy evening alone, secretly watching cartoons and eating ice cream when nobody was around.  He would never be alone again.

 

And it scared him.

 

When his pile of white flowers was all gone, and all of them had been placed neatly into his hair, he sighed, looking at himself in the mirror.  What was he doing?  Getting married? He hadn’t even graduated college yet! He was a child! A baby!  He couldn’t do it…not yet…maybe not ever.

        He was fearful he would lose himself.  He wouldn’t be Jehan anymore, he would be Jehan-and-Feuilly. He wouldn’t be invited to friends’ houses anymore, Jehan-and-Feuilly would be invited.  They would argue.  They would fight.  What if Feuilly stopped loving him?  What if Feuilly wanted to divorce?  What if _he_ wanted to divorce?  What if he didn’t want to get married at all…

        He watched in horror as his image in the mirror began to cry, his lip quivering, tears flooding his eyes.  He couldn’t do it.  He wasn’t going to do it.

        “Oh my God I can’t get married.” He squeaked to himself, burying his face in his hands and sitting down on his bed.  Flowers littered the comforter as he removed them from his hair, feeling badly for picking them now that he wasn’t going to be using them. They died to make him look pretty, but now nobody was going to see him.

        He took out all of the little braids Azelma had put into his hair, combing them out with his fingers until there were none left, his reddish mop falling in a frizzy mess around his face.  It hung like a curtain, covering his face and hands as he sobbed. It took him a little while, but he soon gathered enough will to grab his phone from his nightstand and text Enjolras.

 

Me>12:31 – Enjolras I can’t do this.

Enjolras>12:31 – Can’t do what? Do you need me to help you with anything?

Me>12:32 – I can’t get married Enjolras I’m not going to do it.

Enjolras>12:32 – Oh baby why? It’s okay!  It’s going to be great!

Me>12:32 – I can’t I don’t want to tell Feuilly.

Enjolras>12:33 – I’m coming over wait for me.

 

Jehan tossed his phone onto the bed and flopped down into his nest of blankets and pillows, snuggling his stuffed raccoon, crying uncontrollably, trying to stay quiet so nobody would hear him and come to investigate.

 

—o0o—

 

Enjolras rushed to the Prouvaire’s, not bothering to knock on the door.  He hurried up the stairs and to Jehan’s room at the end of the hallway and knocked on the door lightly, slightly out of breath. 

        “Jehan?” he called.  He received a loud sob in return, which he assumed was Jehan trying to tell him to come in. He opened the door and peered inside.

        “Jehan can I come in?” he asked.  Jehan nodded as he lay on his bed in a ball.  Enjolras entered and closed the door behind him, then sat next to Jehan on the bed, rubbing his back with his hand.

        “What’s wrong, Jehan?  You were so excited!” he asked quietly.  He felt a bit strange, sitting there in a flower crown and dressed for a wedding. It just seemed out of place to him, and he felt almost embarrassed.

        “I don’t want to get married.” He replied into his pillow, his back heaving, his breathing irregular and frighteningly fast.

        “Why? You love Feuilly, and he loves you so much, Jehan.”

        “I can’t.  I’m afraid.”

        “What are you afraid of?”  Jehan did not reply.  “Jehan look at me.” He said, taking his hands and pulling him upright.  He was slightly alarmed at Jehan’s appearance; he was so terribly distraught, his hair all a mess and sticking to his forehead, his cheeks red and raw from crying, his eyes bloodshot.  He looked down at his lap, and Enjolras lifted his chin, their eyes meeting.  “What’s scaring you? Did something happen? Did Feuilly do something?” Jehan shook his head, leaning into Enjolras, who held him tight and rocked him back and forth.

        “He won’t like me, Enjolras.  He won’t want to stay with me.”

        “Oh Jehan!” Enjolras said, thankful it was something simple. “Feuilly loves you more than anything in the world!  He will always love you.”

        “No he won’t.  We’ll be living together and he won’t like it and I won’t like it and then we’ll get divorced and everything will be ruined!  I don’t want that to happen!”

        “Jehan, that isn’t going to happen.  I promise you that isn’t going to happen.  You both love each other.  You’ve loved each other since you were kids!  You’ve fought before, you’ll fight again, and that’s okay!  Grantaire and I fight all the time!” he chuckled, thinking of all the dissagreements he and Grantaire had.  They were constantly arguing, and both listed it as something of a pastime.  They found a sort of joy in berating each other, and he knew that was unusual, but if he and Grantaire had managed to stay together for so long, Jehan and Feuilly would certainly be fine.

        “I can’t, Enjolras.”

        “Yes you can, and you’re going to be so happy, I know it. I love you.  I want you to do this.” He said with a smile, looking at Jehan and wiping his tears away.  “Do you trust me?” he asked.  Jehan nodded. “They you’ll believe me when I tell you that Feuilly is the best thing that has ever happened to you. You were lovely before you met Feuilly, but you are even more lovely now, and I can’t imagine what you would be without him.  You are so much happier when you’re with him.  You’re just…I can’t even explain it!  You’re so wonderful with Feuilly. And think about him, too! I didn’t know him before you two met, but I do know that when he’s not with you, he’s quiet and sad and droopy…But when he’s with you, he’s funny and bright and he talks more. He would do anything for you. He loves you so much, Jehan. So, so much.  He would be devastated if you backed out now.” Jehan nodded.

        “You need to do this.” He added with a smile.  “I know you can do this.”  He wrapped his arms around Jehan and squeezed him tight. “Now come on.  I’ll brush your hair and make it pretty again, alright?” Jehan smiled and nodded again. “Good.” Enjolras grinned and grabbed a brush.

 

—o0o—

 

        “Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Feuilly shouted. Jehan pressed himself into the corner of the Musain, his friends watching, speechless, as Feuilly shouted at tiny little Jehan.

        “I’m sorry, I just—”

        “I can take care of myself!  I don’t need your rich fucking parents to do anything for me!”

        “I wanted to hel—”

        “No, Jehan!  You know what would help? If you grew the fuck up! You’re fucking nineteen years old and you live in a big ass house that your mommy and daddy bought for you, with a fucking cook, and a fucking house keeper, and a fucking back yard with a fucking pool, and your life is just all fluffy pillows and silver platters!  You need to live my life for a little while!  You need to see what it’s like to work for your shit, and to be proud of what you earn without having everything handed to you like a three year old!” Jehan began to cry, but he didn’t dare make a sound.

        “Feuilly—” Courfeyrac began, trying to calm the storm that had been created.

        “Shut up!” he shouted, whipping around to look at Courfeyrac, his eyes stony and cold.  Jehan jumped at the shouting, and Enjolras went straight to his side, pulling him into a hug. He cried into Enjolras’ shoulder.

        “What the fuck, Enjolras!  This is exactly what I’m talking about!  You rich-ass kids don’t know shit about the world!  You want to make everything better for everyone, but you don’t even know who you’re helping!  You don’t even know what it’s like!” he hollered, storming out of the back room, slamming the door as he went, leaving the Musain and going out into the snow.

        Everyone approached Jehan, who was still in Enjolras’ arms, distraught.

        “You okay, Prouvaire?” Bossuet asked.  Jehan didn’t answer, and Joly leaned into Bossuet, concern evident in his bright eyes. 

        “Should someone go talk to Feuilly?” Courfeyrac asked.

        “Just leave him for now, Courf…I think he just needs to cool off.” Combeferre replied, taking Courfeyrac’s shoulders and rubbing them gently—Combeferre had been trying to court Courfeyrac for quite a while, but Courfeyrac seemed oblivious.

        “Grantaire, go make sure he’s okay.” Enjolras said absently, tending to Jehan. Grantaire sighed. Though he was completely infatuated with Enjolras, he was sure Enjolras absolutely hated him and was just trying to get rid of him.  He left the café reluctantly, feeling slightly jealous of Jehan for receiving all of Enjolras’ attention. 

        “I just wanted to help, Enjolras, I didn’t mean to make him upset…He must not like me anymore.  Oh Enjolras what am I going to do?” Jehan sobbed into Enjolras’ shoulder.  He held him tight.

        “It’s okay.  It’s not your fault, Jehan.”

        “You’re just always trying to help, Prouvaire!” Bossuet said with a grin.

        “He’ll be alright.  He’ll come around.” Combeferre said with a smile, playing with Jehan’s long hair. Jehan nodded, unconvinced.

 

—o0o—

 

That night, Jehan lay in bed, watching _Hook_ on the movie channel, snuggled up with the stuffed bear his mother gave him when he was born. He had cried quite enough and was all out of tears, so he sat quietly and did nothing, unsure of what to do. He jumped when his phone buzzed.

 

Feuilly <3>9:04 – Hey you.

 

Jehan didn’t know how to reply. He felt tears stinging behind his eyes again.

 

Me>9:05 – Hey.

Feuilly <3>9:05 – Sorry about before.  I was a jerk. Thank you for the offer.

 

Jehan smiled slightly to himself, pleased that Feuilly had even spoken to him.

 

Me>9:06 – It’s okay :) my fault I wasn’t very sensitive…sorry.

Feuilly <3>9:06 – Thanks Love.

Me>9:06 – Offer is still open if you need, btw

Feuilly <3>9:06 – thanks

Me>9:06 – <3

 

Jehan grinned again, snuggling up with his bear happily, looking at Feuilly’s name on his phone with the little heart next to it.

 

Feuilly<3 >9:10 – Jehan I think I might take u up on that…I’m such a jerk sorry.

Me>9:10 –No you’re not. Everything ok?

Feuilly <3>9:10 – heat hot water got turned off can’t cook or shower or anything.  Cold in here.

Me>9:11 – I’ll take care of it :) come sleep here if you need.

Feuilly <3>9:11 – Do u mind? I’m so sorry im such a dick u should be pissed at me ill go to the shelter or something

Me>9:12 – I want you to come please come over.  I <3 you.

Feuilly <3>9:13 – I <3 u too.

Me>9:13 – see u soon then?

Feuilly <3>9:13 – u sure?

Me>9:13 – positive

Feuilly <3>9:14 – ur parents don’t mind?

Me>9:15 – my moms already setting up the sofa for you.  she won’t let you sleep in my room haha

Feuilly <3>9:15 – Thanks love

Me> :)


	5. Chapter 5

Enjolras sat with Jehan, talking and laughing on his bed as Enjolras re-braided his hair in his usual fashion; loosely over his shoulder.  He then placed all of the white flowers back into the braid and tied a ribbon at the end, matching the one in his own hair.  Enjolras had filled Grantaire in on the situation, and told him to have everyone ready to start on time, but that he and Jehan might be a tad late. He didn’t want to rush Jehan. This was an important day, and he wanted him to be happy, not stressed or nervous.

        “You feeling better?” Enjolras asked.  Jehan nodded and smiled.

        “Yes. I don’t know what happened, I just…I got nervous, I guess.”

        “I know, Jehan, it’s alright.  I’d be nervous too.”

        “No you wouldn’t.  You’re so brave.”

        “I don’t know, Jehan!” he replied with a grin “It’s 12:45…Are you ready?” Jehan sighed heavily and closed his eyes, calming himself before nodding.

        “Yes. Let’s go.” He smiled.

 

—o0o—

 

Everyone was ready and waiting in the park when Jehan and Enjolras arrived.  Jehan wanted the ceremony to be open and casual, so that anyone who happened to be passing in the park could come and join in.  He knew so many people, and he loved every one of them. He didn’t want anyone to feel left out, and over half of the chairs set up were filled with unofficial-but-welcome guests: students Jehan had tutored, regulars from his weekly yoga lessons, even the owners of the Laundromat Feuilly had lived above for the past five years came to the ceremony.  The entire area was littered with pink and white rose petals, and the priest from the church Jehan’s parents attended stood at the top of the isle.  

        “Everyone ready to go?” Enjolras asked the group, everyone standing at the beginning of the isle. 

        “Yup.” Bossuet answered, adjusting Joly’s bowtie.

        “Let’s do this thing.” Courfeyrac said far too dramatically. Combeferre laughed as Enjolras gave Grantaire the go ahead to start playing the keyboard set up at the top of the isle, starting the ceremony.  Feuilly stood anxiously next to the Pastor, looking for Jehan, but he was successfully hidden by the wedding procession, simply to make Feuilly more frustrated and excited.

        Eponine grinned as she took Joly’s arm and started the procession. Joly had volunteered to walk Eponine, as she was the only one without a significant other, and Bossuet was paired with Enjolras, as Grantaire was providing musical ambiance.

        Both Eponine and Cosette were dressed in pale pink dresses with white lace trim. Feuilly suggested the entire procession wear pink, high top Chuck Taylors, just for fun, and Jehan agreed immediately, so Eponine and Cosette wore sneakers under their tea-length dresses with lacey white socks.

        Next in the procession came Marius and Cosette.  Half way down the isle, Cosette realized that Marius’ collar had lifted up on one side, and she stopped to fix it, standing on her toes. The audience chuckled, and Marius blushed.

        Then Courfeyrac and Combeferre headed down the isle, hand in hand, and stood to the side with the others.  Finally, Enjolras and Bossuet walked down the isle without a hitch.

        A tear came to Feuilly’s eye when he finally saw Jehan standing at the end of the isle with his mother.  They walked up together, and Jehan stood on the right side of the isle with Eponine and Cosette, looking lovingly at Feuilly across the makeshift altar. Grantaire finished the wedding march and the priest began to speak, but all anyone was paying attention to was the look Jehan was giving Feuilly, and the way Feuilly gazed back, both of them so happy, happier than they had ever been in their entire lives.

        The Pastor smiled at Jehan, then looked to Feuilly, and they stepped up to the altar.  It took all of Feuilly’s willpower not to take Jehan in his arms right then and never, ever let go. The Priest began the vows. Feuilly retrieved the rings from his pocket and handed one to Jehan.

        “Do you, Jean Prouvaire, take you, Feuilly (Feuilly didn’t know his family, and therefore never used a surname), for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”  Jehan nodded.

        “I do.” He smiled, slipping the simple gold band around Feuilly’s finger.

        “And do you, Feuilly, take Jean Prouvaire for your lawful husband, until death do you part?”

        “Yup.” Feuilly said simply with a grin. The audience chuckled again.  Feuilly slipped the thinner band onto Jehan’s slender finger.  Jehan smiled brightly.

        “You are now married in the eyes of God.  You may kiss your bride.” The priest smiled.  Feuilly hooked his arm around Jehan’s slender middle and pulled him close, leaning over and giving him a kiss hard on the mouth, slightly startling Jehan, who took a second to return the kiss, laughing as he did so. Applause rang out from the small crowd. Even passerby-s clapped as they embraced.

       

—o0o—

 

After the ceremony, family and friends proceeded to the reception held at the local country club. The Prouvaire’s had been a prominent family in town for generations, and, of course, they were members of the club. The reception was given as a gift for their dedication to the club; they even provided food and service. Everyone sat happily through speeches and toasts before beginning dinner.

        All of Jehan and Feuilly’s friends sat at one massive table, taking and laughing and taking pictures together when the waiter came over to take orders for drinks.

        “I’d like a glass of champagne, please!  And a glass of water, if that’s alright.” Jehan cooed shyly.

        “I need a coke and rum.” Feuilly said in turn.  The waiter scribbled down their orders.

        “I’d like a coke too, please, but no rum, thanks.” Grantaire said with a smile.

        “A lemonade would be absolutely lovely.” Enjolras said with a smile. Courfeyrac mouthed ‘spike it’ to the waiter when Enjolras wasn’t paying attention.  The waiter winked in reply.

 

That spiked lemonade turned into quite the adventure.

 

The first glass had only a small effect, one Enjolras didn’t notice, but after another half a glass, Enjolras was completely miserable.

        “What is this?” he groaned, looking at his glass, his head in his hands.

        “Lemonade.” Courfeyrac grinned.  Combeferre laughed. Enjolras took another sip.

        “Grantaire does this taste normal to you?” he asked, offering Grantaire his glass. Grantaire took a swig and smiled.

        “Yup.” He said.  Eponine was struggling not to laugh, but Jehan didn’t have as much control, especially not with two glasses of champagne in him.  He giggled into Feuilly’s shoulder.

        “Good lord I’m dizzy.” He said, leaning into Grantaire.

        “You okay, Sunshine?” Grantaire asked, though he was chuckling.

        “No I can’t feel my fingers.  Joly what’s wrong with me?” he asked.  Joly’s eyes widened.  Should he tell Enjolras he was probably drunk?  Eponine glared at him, as if reading his thoughts.

        “I don’t know.  Could just be tired.” He said with a smile.  To be completely honest, Eponine could easily scare Joly half to death just by looking at him, and though he loved her dearly, she could be terrifying—much like Enjolras, actually.

        “Am I shaking?  I feel like I’m shaking.” Enjolras said, his speech becoming slightly slow and slurred.

        “You’re not shaking, Apollo.” Grantaire said, pulling Enjolras into his lap before he could stand up.  “You’re fine.” He kissed his cheek.

        “I do not feel fine.” Enjolras insisted.  “I feel…I don’t even know.  I feel—”

        “Happy?” Bossuet attempted.

        “Relaxed?” Marius suggested.

        “like dancing?” Cosette added.

        “Dancing sounds like a good idea, Enjolras.” Feuilly said with a smirk, knowing Enjolras couldn’t dance well to begin with.  It would be hilarious to watch him try now.

        “Yeah, come on, Enjolras, dance with me!” Eponine said, standing and offering Enjolras her hand.

        “No, please I just want to sit down.” Enjolras said.

        “Go on, Apollo.  It’ll be fun.” Grantaire said, pushing him up and into Eponine’s arms.  She lead him off to the dance floor and grabbed his hands, swinging him around to the music.  Everyone watched, giggling, and Combeferre took a video on his phone. It didn’t take long for Enjolras to loose his balance and fall into Eponine.

        “Oh God I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He said, blushing terribly.

        “Don’t worry, Enjolras, just…go with it.” She grinned slyly. She took his hand and flung him out to arm’s length before pulling him back into her, expecting him to spin gracefully like in the movies.  The opposite happened.  She greatly overestimated Enjolras’ weight and sent him flying into on of the waiters who, thankfully, only dropped his notebook.  Enjolras only just caught his balance, apologizing profusely before heading back to the table, falling into his chair.

        “Something is seriously wrong with me someone please take me to the emergency room I think I’m having a heart attack or a stroke or something.” Enjolras pleaded, legitimately worried.  Everyone continued laughing, and Enjolras continued babbling in frustration. “Guys I’m serious! Are you all _that_ drunk?!”

        “No,” Grantaire replied, “but you are!” he said.  Enjolras’ eyes widened.

        “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked, looking around the table at everyone. “I ordered a lemonade! Since when is that code for fucking vodka!”

        “I’ve never heard him swear this much.” Bossuet noted. Joly watched Enjolras, somewhat frightened.  He looked like he might throw something, and his face was bright red.

        “I think he might explode.  Maybe giving him alcohol is like peeing in a gas tank…” Bossuet suggested. “It just makes him sort of…stop.” Joly laughed, though he was still slightly frightened at Enjolras’ behavior.

        “Oh God Grantaire how do I make it stop?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire chuckled.

        “You don’t.” he said with a grin.

        “Mother fucker!” Enjolras shouted, pulling at his ponytail.

        “Well now we have our angry drunk.” Feuilly said.

        “I thought Jehan was our angry drunk.” Combeferre said, a questioning look in his eyes.

        “No, Jehan is the dirty drunk.  He doesn’t get mad, he just starts…you know…” Feuilly explained, looking to Jehan, who sat nicely in his lap.

        “It’s poetry, Feuilly.  I’m a _poetic_ drunk.” He replied.

        “You’re a _dirty_ poetic drunk.” Courfeyrac chuckled.  Jehan’s cheeks flushed.

        “It was one time!” he chirped.

        “It was more than one time, Jehan.” Joly said quietly. Jehan shrugged, obviously embarrassed.

        “This is miserable!  Why do you guys do this to yourselves, you idiots!” Enjolras said, putting his forehead on the table and groaning.

        “You’re at that awkward stage between ‘pleasantly buzzed’ and ‘I’m not going to remember this tomorrow’.  Drink a little more and you’ll feel great.” Grantaire said with a smirk.

        “No I am never drinking anything ever again.  Can we go home, Grantaire?  I think I might have to throw up in a little bit...” Enjolras said, looking rather sickish.  Grantaire looked around.  The ballroom was more or less empty.  Jehan had a small family, and the majority of them either had small kids or were elderly and had left early.

        “Yeah okay.” Grantaire said after a minute.  “I’ll drive.” He chuckled.

        “Yeah.” Enjolras agreed.

        “Aw thank you for coming, Lovelies!” Jehan said, standing and offering Grantaire a hug, which he accepted willingly.  Enjolras missed the hug prompt and sort of just leaned into Jehan, but after a moment, he grabbed Jehan’s cheeks and kissed him on the mouth for a few seconds too long.  Everyone laughed. Courfeyrac took pictures.

        “Okay, come on lover boy.”  Grantaire said, taking Enjolras’ hand and guiding him away from Jehan, who was sitting back in Feuilly’s lap, laughing lightly.

        “You’re a wonderful kisser, Enjolras.  Grantaire is lucky to have you.” he cooed.

        “I am most certainly going to throw up.” Enjolras replied as he and Grantaire left the country club.  
  
  
  
  
  
~Poor, drunk Enjolras...


	6. Chapter 6

Feuilly and Jehan returned home after the wedding reception.  It was late, but Jehan was far too excited to sleep.  He smiled, and Feuilly took his hands as they walked into the darkened house, the only light coming from a small candle on the mantelpiece.  The soft, warm light made Jehan’s face glow a radiant, peachy shade.

            “I love you Baby Doll.” Feuilly said quietly with a smile, gently taking out Jehan’s braid and running his hand through his long, reddish hair. Jehan took one of the flowers from his hair and tucked it behind Feuilly’s ear gently, running his long, white hand down his cheek.

            “And I you, Dearest.” Jehan replied, standing on his toes and craning his neck. Feuilly held Jehan’s jaw in his hand, running his thumb across his cheek before kissing him lovingly. Jehan closed his eyes and smiled against Feuilly’s lips. 

When he finally opened his eyes, he gave a little gasp in surprise.  There was a trail of white flower petals dancing from where they stood in the doorway all the way up the stairs.

“Feuilly, when did you—” Feuilly placed his finger over Jehan’s velvety lips, quieting him.

“Magic.” He whispered. Jehan giggled, following the petal trail with his bright blue eyes.  “Go on, then.” Feuilly smiled, prompting Jehan up the stairs.  He smiled and started up the stairs, taking Feuilly’s hand. Together, they followed the flower petals up the stairs and through their bedroom to the large master bathroom. There, Jehan found the room surrounded by tea lights, all of them lit and flickering gaily on every surface in the room. The massive bathtub was filled with crystal clear water, still hot and sending spirals of steam up into the room. Rose petals floated lazily in the water. Jehan was wonderstruck, and could hardly speak.  He only leaned into Feuilly, pulling his arms in and letting Feuilly’s strong arms engulf him.

“How…how did you do all of this?” he asked in a whisper.

“I told you. It was magic.” Feuilly smiled, running his hand from Jehan’s jaw to his long, pale neck.  He carefully undid the buttons on the front of Jehan’s shirt, letting it hang around his delicate shoulders, unable to resist giving his love another kiss, this time on his neck.  Jehan craned his neck and ran his hands through Feuilly’s hair and down his back, scratching lightly how he liked.  Jehan chuckled lightly, like a happy little bird when Feuilly nuzzled his collarbone.  He allowed his shirt to fall away, pooling on the floor at his feet like a shimmery puddle.

“You’re beautiful, Jehan, did you know that?” Feuilly asked quietly, running his hands down Jehan’s smooth, pale skin, his deft fingers finding their way to his girlish hips. Jehan blushed, not just on his porcelain cheeks, but all over, from his chest to his fingertips to his toes. Feuilly noticed, and smiled. “You don’t know it, do you?” he chuckled, making quick work of his own shirt and tossing it aside.

Though Jehan may not have seen the beauty in himself, he certainly saw it in Feuilly.  Where Jehan was thin and girlish and fair, Feuilly was strong, built, and scruffy. Life had not been particularly kind to him, and his body showed it.  His chest was riddled with scars; thin white lines Jehan liked to trace with his fingers. 

Though his complexion was not flawless, his build was.  He and Bossuet often worked out together, boxing and lifting, and doing so had given Feuilly a chiseled middle.  Jehan thought he looked like a Michelangelo, his proportions so classically perfect, he could be a sculpture come to life.  Jehan traced the shallow canals of his strong abdominals as Feuilly eased Jehan out of the rest of his wedding attire and into the hot bath, shortly following suit.

“I have never been happier than I am right this moment.  Not in my entire life.” Jehan cooed, resting his head against Feuilly’s chest, closing his eyes as Feuilly ran lathery hands through Jehan’s reddish hair, the candles making the strands glow gold. 

“Me neither. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Jehan Prouvaire.” Feuilly replied, breathing in Jehan’s floral scent. He always smelled dewy and fresh, even when he wasn’t covered in fluffy pink bubbles.  “I love you so much.”  Jehan snuggled up against Feuilly, his skin cool in the hot water.

“I never want this to end. Not ever.”

“It won’t. Me and you, we’ll be together just like this forever.”  Jehan smiled and looked up at Feuilly, but his gaze was elsewhere—up on the bathroom counter.

“What is it, Dearest?” Jehan cooed, dipping under the water for a moment to rinse his mermaid hair. Feuilly stood up and wrapped a towel around himself.

“Get out and see.” He smiled, offering Jehan a towel, which he wrapped himself in, drying off his face, his eyelashes sticking together from the water.  He tiptoed to the counter and looked at the envelope that sat between the sinks.  Jehan bowed his eyebrows at Feuilly.

“Should I open it?” he asked.

“It says your name on it.” Feuilly smiled.  The pink envelope did, in fact, say Jehan and Feuilly’s names on it, in a curly script he didn’t recognize.  He peeled back the wax seal—noting his family’s emblem stamped into the center—and carefully removed the folded piece of paper inside.  He unfolded it carefully, being sure to dry his hands fully so as not to ruin whatever was inside.

When he opened the note, he smiled.

 

_Jehan and Feuilly,_

_First off, you guys are adorable.  Favorite couple of the group, hands down.  Second, we love you guys more than you could ever know, and we wanted to make today extra super special._

_You’ve both been such good friends to us through everything, and we know you’ll continue to be there for us, just as we’ll always be there for you. We also know that you probably won’t need us to lean on anymore, because now you’ve got each other._

_Anyway, since you guys are both so awesome, we wanted to do something to show you how much we love you._

_Jehan, you are such a sweet and loving person, and you only ever give of yourself. For that reason, we consulted Feuilly, and decided that the best thing to do would be to give you something you could always look back on and remember fondly.  Something that was just for you.  We wanted someone to take care of everything for you so you could just relax with your new hubby.  Feuilly had an awesome idea, and that’s why tomorrow you two will be flying all the way to America for a honeymoon we all chipped in for.  Ever been to South Dakota?  Didn’t think so.  Now you get to camp out in the fanciest tent ever, complete with snuggly blankets and fluffy pillows and electricity and your own personal cook.  We were sure to book a spot surrounded by wildflowers just for you, Jehan!_

_We love both of you so much, and we hope you have a great time! Don’t worry, we took the liberty of packing for you.  All you have to do is catch the plane and relax for a whole wonderful week._

_Have a great time!  We’ll miss you, but you guys deserve a break from all of us crazy people._

_TONS of Love,_

_Cosette, Marius, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Enjolras, Grantaire, Joly, Bossuet, Eponine, Bahorel, Mommy, and Papa._

 

            Jehan looked like he might cry.

            “You thought of this?” he asked, looking up to Feuilly. He nodded, and placed a kiss on Jehan’s hair, holding him close.  “This is amazing!  Goodness, I just love you so much…I can’t think of anything else to say.” Feuilly smiled

            “Then don’t say anything.” He picked up Jehan and walked him out into the bedroom, tucking him under the covers, the sheets pleasantly cool on his bath-warmed skin. Feuilly slipped in beside him and immediately pulled him into a warm embrace, their legs tangling, Jehan running his foot up and down Feuilly’s ankle.

            “Best day ever?” Feuilly asked.

            “Best day ever.” Jehan smiled, giving Feuilly a kiss on the nose.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~Terribly sorry this took so long to finally put up!  I always wanted to go on a fancy camping trip with a nice tent and pretty flowers and floofy pillows....ugh...so nice......  
  
Anyhow, drop a line!  Say hello!  Leave a comment!  I love hearing from you guys! <3


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